


Future lost and found

by NotPersephone



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M, Happy Ending, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 16:06:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9279248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotPersephone/pseuds/NotPersephone
Summary: The game was over. But there was no winner. What she felt was not relieve, only desolation.





	

A sudden rush of air poured into her lungs. The face of the man she knew so well was looking at her from the TV screen.

_“…plunge off the cliff…The bodies were not found.”_

Bedelia had anticipated the news. But it shocked her and she was not prepared for that.

Three days had passed and she could not keep herself away from the updates of the story. Or the lack of it. They were presumably dead but no formal announcement could be made.

Speculations began to surface instead. They became more improbable and unconvincing as time passed; the most ludicrous being the Tattle Crime headline: _“Murder husbands spotted in Havana.”_ Bedelia did not bother to read the article. She had never held much respect for Freddie Lounds but did not expect her to sink that low.

A week later Bedelia cancelled her lectures. She needed to withdraw from the spotlight, the official statement read. And that was enough to spare her any enquiries. The truth was she saw no point to continuing them.

The game was over. But there was no winner. What she felt was not relieve, only desolation.

Her nights were restless and sleep eluded her. Still, she did not resolve to take sleeping pills. They would dull her mind and she needed to be alert. The remainder of fear that someone would still come for her lingered in her mind. Who that _someone_ was, she did not know.

No one came. She had never felt so alone in her house, unwanted emotions stirring in her heart.

She left for Europe two days later. Some distance and a change of scenery, she tried to convince herself. Yet deep inside she knew where she would go long before the boarded the train in Rome.

_Florence._

The city had not changed at all. Still suspended in time, only now holding more history. _Their history_.

Their apartment was unavailable, she took time to examine that. A reply was met with a degree of relief.

Still, she had chosen a hotel in a close vicinity. The sweet Italian air she remembered so fondly was flowing through her window. She could see the same stars over Duomo at night. But her bed was cold and bare.

Bedelia walked the familiar streets. She was looking for closure but found only memories awaking anew in her mind.

 The pasticceria where he used to buy biscotti for her on his way home from the museum. Their favourite enoteca with the best Chianti.

Those gushes of the past flooded her, like a wave sweeping over her mind.

One morning she thought she saw Hannibal’s face among the crowd. She came closer but she could not spot him anymore; she turned the corner, there was no one there.

Her wanderings brought her to the Palazzo Capponi. No one remembered or paid any attention to her, she was merely another American tourist. She found her way to the lecture room, recalling the evening of Hannibal’s presentation.

He talked about betrayal that night and now his own Judas cost him his life. How ironic.

The space seemed smaller than she remembered, now that she was used to her own spacious lecture hall.

She made her way to front of the room and turned to face the empty auditorium.

“I awoke in the fresh-smelling semi dark- “the well-rehearsed words flowed from her mouth and echoed in the empty space. Now they left a bitter aftertaste on her tongue, like poison. Poison of her own creation.

The real story would never be told.

“He used to buy me fresh flowers. Irises, he said they reminded him of me.”

Seductive and sensual, those were his words. Bedelia recalled the bouquet on her vanity.

“The truth is they are my favourite flowers. And he knew that,” she continued to address a non-existing audience.

“There were days of talk. Long, increasingly meaningful, passionate conversation. He always called my name. As though he took pleasure in a way it rolled off his tongue.”

She took pleasure in that as well.

“It was strange at first and then it wasn’t strange. It was glorious. I had never felt so content as I did lying in his arms.”

Suddenly, she realised what she was mourning was not the lost past but the lost future. Not what had been but what could have been.

“I have not lost myself, “the tears swelled in her eyes but she held them back.

“I have lost _him_.”

A movement in the back of the room brought her back to the present moment. She was alarmed, irritated with herself for this reckless moment of weakness.

All possible excuses ran through her mind when a man stepped out of the shadows.

The man she knew so well. The man she longed to see.

“I have wished for an opportunity to hear you lecture, Dr Du Maurier,” Hannibal said with a smile, “It was worth the wait.”

Bedelia remained silent. He turned his head and looked away.

“I apologise. I did not mean to follow you. I did not know if you wished to see me.”

This time it was Bedelia that averted her gaze. Now he knew.

Hannibal began to walk slowly in her direction. He had lost weight and looked fatigued but there was still passion burning in his eyes. The one he held for her entirely.

They faced each other. Their intense stare was closer than an embrace.

“I will kiss you, if you want me to,” the boyish smile she was so fond of played on his lips.

Her own smile came slowly at first, then bloomed with a rush, pouring out her heart. She grasped his face and pulled him closer. Their lips found each other and it felt as if they had never been away.

Much later, they laid entwined in each other’s arms inside her hotel room. The heat of their bodies did not bother her, she relished it. A face near to her and a voice she knew whispering words she had not hoped to hear.

Their future was already here.

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a tumblr prompt: Bedelia believes Hannibal is dead and confesses her feelings in a seemingly empty room. It gave me the idea of redoing her lecture to reflect the truth. I hope I managed to keep it in character.


End file.
